THE Stories
by Roazhonad
Summary: Everything's in the title. Only main characters listed. Spoilers series 3
1. The Woman

The Woman

She had been in his thoughts for some time now. For nearly three years he had managed to keep her out when he didn't want to remember, allowing her access to his life only when he was completely unoccupied (i.e. bored). But since John's wedding and the Mayflyman Case, she kept creeping back from the back of his mind, and more often than not in delicate situation when he needed to concentrate.

"Damn woman…"

When he said that with his deep gravelly voice – thinking aloud for once – everyone in the room turned and looked at him with surprise.

"Who are you talking about, Sherlock?" Mrs Hudson asked.

He smiled. He hadn't realised he had spoken that aloud. Normally it was the opposite, he didn't voice out his thoughts without realising it. But no matter, their reactions were so distracting. Mrs Hudson was mockingly shocked, the few family members and friends agglomerated in the living room and kitchen were embarrassed and intimidated, looking at their feet mainly. Mycroft and his parents were sincerely surprised, Mycroft maybe a little annoyed too. And John was holding back his laughter beside Mary who had both eyebrows raised in question at him.

"The Woman" John and him spoke in unison.

He turned towards his best friend in surprise.

"How did you know?"

John's smile grew bigger, if that was possible, and he answered cheekily:

"It's always about The Woman."


	2. The Baby

AN : So, here is chapter 2, all in emotions this time.

**The Baby**

"SHERLOCK ! SHERLOCK ! OH MY GOD ! JESUS ! MARY! OOOHH!"

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"I think Dr Watson will be breathing in a bag for the few next minutes… but otherwise he is fine", said the tall and smooth-voiced man.

"Ok, call me if anything's wrong", said the strange woman.

When she was gone, the tall curly man approached…well, _my_ man.

"John? Are you alright?"

I think he was a bit concerned about his state. As was I, by the way. But _I_ wasn't left at it for long, since my man soon approached, helped by Curly.

"Are you ok?" I said.

No, wait. That wasn't me. Yet it was… no it wasn't… strange… I'm getting confused. The battle went on as follows: my man said he was fine, perfectly fine, rocking on his feet, Curly argued he looked anything but fine, my man defended himself with his eyes only, took a deep breath and stood pale but victorious, while I-not-I-not-really-sure-anymore was laughing. My man was standing proud just a few feet away from me, and at that moment I started looking up at him even more than I ever had. Curly, of course, noticed it, and grinned at me.

"You're right, John is a hero, and you have not seen the infinityth of it."

"Oh, Sherlock! Stop being so sentimental!" I-not-I-less-and-less-sure half cried at Curly.

"I'm not being sentimental! I'm merely stating the truth!" Curly defended himself.

"Ok, guys, stop it now!" My man said calmly, always master of the situation. "Although I'd love to discuss my worth, I'm only here to claim my price."

"What price? What for?" I-not-I-more-and-more-sure-not-I asked cheekily.

"My price for not fainting and standing up."

At that I felt myself being lifted up, and I really didn't feel comfortable at all. But then my man took me softly in his arms, and I felt as if I was in a nest. I looked up and smiled at him. He smiled back, but his eyes were wet. He bent his head slightly towards me and kissed by brow, after what he whispered:

"Hello, you! I'm John, your daddy, and I love you very much already."

I flashed him a big smile when I heard that. _Daddy_. How wonderful…! He cradled me for some time, which I didn't see pass, after which I started feeling something weird, unusual. I, and this time I'm sure it was I, started crying, and immediately I left the "daddy nest", and found myself face to face with a woman, whose scent was deeply familiar. Until now I thought it was me…

"Mummy's turn!" _Daddy_ said.

The woman rolled her eyes and said to me:

"See, that's one thing daddy can't do. Hopefully, mummy can."

When I heard her voice, I understood, and all confusion left me. _Mummy_. That's why her voice was so familiar to me. Moreover, being in her arms presented a non-negligible advantage: not that I knew why, but I was sure she had exactly what I needed to make the weird feeling go away. And that was confirmed to be true. While I was exquisitely sustaining myself for the first time, I heard a nice sound over the door, and it nearly made me fall asleep! While I was feeding! I must've been frowning because mummy and daddy were giggling over me, and calling "Sherlock" in. Curly came in a few seconds later, with something strange in his hands.

"Sherlock, from now on you are officially recruited as Jenny's personal sleep musician! You should have seen her seen his face when she started falling asleep while drinking!" They chuckled.

But Curly-Sherlock wasn't listening. He was looking at them with wide eyes, mouth agape and tears ready to fall.

"Sherlock? Are you ok?"

Daddy seemed to care about Sherlock as much as Sherlock cared for him. In different ways, though. Sherlock blinked and closed and opened his mouth several times before answering.

"Yes, yes, I, I'm fine." He said although his eyes held some sadness. "It's a beautiful name you've chosen." He tried a small smile.

"AAAAAAAAA!" I babbled in approbation to the whole conversation.

Everybody in the room stared at me in awe.


	3. The Goldfish

AN: This one involves two pairings, but I'm not sure they'll remain through all the chapters. Hope you enjoy. And sorry for the late update, in compensation the next two will come today!

The Goldfish

"I _do not_ have a goldfish!"

"Oh really, is that so? That's not what I deduced from your…" Previously angry Mycroft became slightly pale and wide-eyed as he put both his hands on his drama queen brother. After making sure no one was coming from the staircase, he took his hands away but through Sherlock a deathly glare.

"So why don't you…" This time Mycroft made it obvious he would _gladly_ punch his brother if he didn't stop. So Sherlock paced victoriously yet nonchalantly around the room with a cheeky smile plastered on his face. Only until the former decided to fight back.

"And you, brother dear, how are your bed matters going with _your_ goldfish? Any good luck?"

Mary opened her eyes and mouth very wide, John spat on his tea and Sherlock became _very_ tense. He stopped seriously in front of his brother who was now grinning, and almost whispered, except loud enough for everyone to hear:

"Well, at least _I_ don't workout twice a day for my goldfish."

Then started a glaring contest between the two Holmes, only interrupted by Mary's understandable questioning:

"What exactly are they doing? It's really becoming weird…" She was concerned. John wasn't worried at all, he knew these two too well to take them to their words.

"Boys, stop fighting over a bunch of _goldfish_."

They both turned towards him with an impression of absolute shock on their face.

"John!"

The latter stared at them for a moment before exploding in a fit of laughter.

"No! Really?! Impossible! You cannot! Wow! You two, Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes, are seriously arguing over _G.O.L.D.F.I.S.H _! Come on, there must be something!"

"There is John, and you know exactly what. Just think." Sherlock said gravely.

John thought for a moment, before exploding in laughter again.

"You… you…you're not… telling me… _he _'s got a _girlfriend _!" At this point John couldn't breathe, and he sincerely didn't care if he had made the worse attempt at deducing something in his life, because the sheer idea of _Mycroft Holmes_ having a girlfriend was hilarious.

"No, not exactly."

"A boyfriend then?" John humoured them once he had calmed down. The elder's reaction was priceless. His eyes widened like never before, he became very pale and started huffing, puffing, sweating, wriggling and blushing from ear to ear all at the same time. Fortunately, Mary had the sumptuous idea of taking a picture, which would provide endless material for teasing and pressure over the poor man, for whom this was only the beginning of an ambushed road towards bliss.

"Really?" John was all excited and curious. This did and would not happen every day. "So… Come on! Who is it then?"

And at that exact moment came in DI Gregory Lestrade, sexily dishevelled and unshaved and leather-tight dressed.


	4. The Best Friend

AN: So sorry for the late!

The Best Friend

When John entered 221B this afternoon, he certainly didn't expect what he found. Sherlock was lying on the floor, several needles and bottles of pure morphine discarded around him, one needle planted in each of his arms. Beside him there was a bucket filled with vomit, and his pants wet and his body sweating and trembling like hell. He was high, really high. John wondered what he should do. Call Mycroft? Lestrade? Janine? Molly? His parents? Call an ambulance and bring him to the hospital? Call the police for a thorough search of the flat? Or maybe…

"Stay. Please. I need you. I need your help."

John was angry. _Very_ angry. How…?! What on earth did he…?!

"No, no, no, you don't _need_ me in your life! You don't want my help! 'Cause _Mister_ Sherlock Holmes is better than anyone, he doesn't need help from anybody, even when he's dying! You know what? Give me one reason I should stay with you while you're so high against all your promises. One reason you are not asking me that just not be bored."

_When you walked in, I was lost. When you walked out, I got lost again. When you leave this earth, nobody knows what you will find. When you are down, there's no one but you to pick you up. But when you lost it, everyone was there for you. You, you, you. My blogger, my flatmate, my best friend, my John Watson. You are the best human being I have ever met. I'm sorry for everything. And so is Mary._

"You're the best friend I've ever had."

AN: Hope you enjoyed! A little review? Fav? Follow?


	5. The Survivor

AN: This one is a bit lighter, I hope you'll have as much fun reading it as I had writing it.

**The Survivor**

"Moriarty survived, he's back, and he probably wants you dead."

"Nope."

John blinked.

"H-H-How do you know that?"

"If he wanted me he would have blown the plane. Easy, discreet, no one would have known it was him if they ever found out it was of criminal origin, he could have even made it crash in the middle of a deserted area in central or eastern Europe, torture me, toy with me, blackmail me, and thousands of other things that would have probably rejoiced him more. But he decided to show himself. That can only mean three things: he hasn't included me in his plans, he needs my help or he isn't really Moriarty. Although I don't think the latter is very probable."

Right then, he received a text from Moriarty.

_How do you suppose DI Gregory Lestrade will react when he learns I'm with his sister? JM_

John had read the text over the detective's shoulder.

"Oh my God! He's captured Greg's sister! But why would he want her? It's not like Lestrade's got any power…"

"Wrong. He wants me to use my relation to Mycroft to guarantee the cleaning of his name, otherwise he will reveal the relationship to Lestrade with no further precaution, which would most likely drive him mad."

John's face expressed all his confusion.

"Relationship?"

"Yes, he's obviously involved with Miss Lestrade. He must have met her during one of his trips to the Czech Republic, or before she moved there."

John was astonished.

"But, but, but, that's not possible! Greg's going to turn mad if he learns that!"

"That's exactly his point, John. He is meeting his fiancée's family in three days, and that is when everything will be revealed. He wants his name cleared by then, and sent us a little incentive."

John was smiling now.

"Incredible. I would have never thought _Moriarty_ could fall in love. And even less that he would wish to please her family. But then, neither did I for you, so times must be changing."

Sherlock glared at him as a caution he didn't want to talk about that.

"Anyway, let's get going. We have a busy schedule now."

John looked pointedly at him.

"Well, we don't want Gramy Lestrade to have a stroke, do we? So I suggest we set for cleaning this survivor's name."

AN: Soooo, hope you enjoyed this little bit of humor, next one will be a little more serious (not too much though, don't worry!). I hope to be able to post it later in the afternoon, at the most tonight. But I can't promise you anything... Maybe a little review/fav/follow could help?


	6. The Brother

AN: I'm so sorry for the late, this chapter is ready since last week, but I had a ot of things to do for my Uni applications. I hope you can forgive me and you will enjoy this chapter.

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**The Brother**

When they were very young, they got on well with each other. When Sherlock was three it started not being good, since he clearly wasn't as intelligent as his brother. They even both thought he was _stupid_. When John heard that, he laughed, the idea was so ridiculous. Indeed, that's what they also realised when they moved out from their isolated home where they had to be home-schooled to London's suburb and went to school, meeting other children. The grudge between the two brothers didn't stop there, though, because they weren't only different in terms of intelligence. Mycroft had been, unlike Sherlock, capable of adapting himself and blending in more or less by developing necessary social skills. Not being the last _baby_ one had made him less lazy and he had worked his way to the top of society. That made his little brother jealous. But Mycroft had a big problem with Sherlock too. He hated the fact that the detective kept in shape naturally through his way of life while he had to exercise at least twice a day to remain _approximately_ bearable. And he hated the former's charming skills. Wherever Sherlock went, he made women and men fall like flies, all attracted to his sharp beauty and the shivers he could send when he needed to make his way with someone. And _he_ could not even manage to seduce the one person that mattered to him… But through time all these little gibes had become their way of showing how much they cared about each other, a sort of disguised _I love you brother_.

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AN: Sooo, hope you enjoyed, and this time I promise, I'm posting next one right away. Next one won't be there for some time though, so I invite you to visit my profile and other fanfics, I'll try to be quick. Good weekend to you all, and thanks for reading! A little review maybe?


	7. The Trick

AN: As promised, the next chapter.

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**The trick**

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Sherlock was a master of tricks. He manipulated people every day, making them do exactly what he wanted, through all the ways he could. In the end, he always made it to the expected result. But this time, he hoped he had a way of proving his honesty, that it wasn't a disguise to use her again. He had fallen into his own trick, right at the moment he had gotten involved. And it hurt, terribly, madly, his heart was raging with an uncontrollable fire, and he had no solution. So he escaped it. For the first time in years, if not decades, he got drunk to the point of losing consciousness. And he had the surprise of his life, because the one thing he did out of interest in getting her back was the one that worked. But he had learned a useful lesson on tricks. Better than any his parents, brother, John, Mary, Mrs Hudson or the others had ever had.

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AN: Powerful. This one really came in one flow, it was obvious. If you're lucky, so will next chapter. And as of now, I'm taking your guesses concerning the title. And any prompt you'd want for this collection. So leave a little review or PM, just for the fun of it (and also because nothing would please me more ;) ). See you as soon as possible!


	8. The One

AN: Lucky you, it didn't take that long for this chapter to arrive. This one's a bit special because there are several pairings, some of them you may not like, and each drabble is exactly 112 words. Enjoy!

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**The One**

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John and Mary. Love at first sight. No, it wasn't love. It was more than that. It was about finding your _other half_, your _soul sister_. They were perfect together. They _fitted_. When you saw _John and Mary_ together, whether in public or in private, you could only think: _It's right. That's the most perfectly right thing in the Universe_. That's why they remained together after Mary's revelation. Because Sherlock and she were right: he loved her because she was his _Mrs Psychopath_, the only woman on Earth who could really be with him. And it worked the same the other way around. They never professed their love, though, it was useless.

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Sherlock and Janine. Complicated. Passionate. Love and hate. Burning. Each knowing the other more than themselves, having seen more of it than anyone. Even John often surprised himself smiling when they talked together. It was light and deep. About anything but them, but in the end only about them. Never long but always taking ages. Never the actual central conversation, but always the centre of it. But the best was still the beginning of it all. They were intent on keeping it a secret sometimes from their friends, sometimes from each other, oblivious and obvious, cold, nearly calculating and passionately intense. In one word, it was a _mess_. A big, crazy mess.

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Mycroft and Lestrade. _Nonsense. Impossible. I will take that, Dr Watson, as an evidence of your 'goldfish'-ness._ That's what they said at the beginning. When John, Mary and Sherlock had hacked Mycroft's phone (well _some_ of it, mainly his texts) and discovered a considerable amount of draft texts, attempts of declarations and professions of love, that nearly made them cry, and all addressed to the same one person. _Gregory Lestrade. Director Inspector Gregory Henry Lestrade_, as the 'To' labels said. They had all been shocked at the revelation, mostly because they wouldn't have thought Sir Mycroft Francesco Holmes could fall for a man who represented everything he despised in his surrounding goldfishes.

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Jim and Lena. When they met, he told her everything without being drunk, high, or calculating. He just trusted her immediately, as she him. All that trust had unsettled him at first, it was new for him. It was foreign and amazing for him that she would stay with him without any threat or advantage. She laughed fondly when he told her that, kissing him asleep. When he got involved with Sherlock Holmes, he got to know her brother. '_How do you suppose DI Gregory Lestrade will react when he learns I'm with his sister?'_ He hoped they'd take it as a threat and not as what was really him freaking out.

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The kids. The first time Tommy Lestrade met Jenny Watson, he could naught but stare in awe, amazed by her special beauty. It didn't only came from her pleasant appearance. Rather, it was her sharp words, cunning expressions and very bad temper that attracted him to her. That day, she was eight and he was eleven, and all he could do was mutter a strangled _Hi_ when she introduced herself. It wasn't until years later that he took the step, when she dumped her twelfth boyfriend of the year and he couldn't take it anymore. Everyone was here, family and friends, but he didn't care. He kissed her furiously. And she back.

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Mr and Mrs Hudson. Nothing had been bright between them. It was mostly about appearance, about being proper and pretend. The sex was amazing though. She had number of experiences with him. But she was a possessive woman, and she didn't like that while she was dancing for him on the stage of the small cartel saloon, he was stuffing other women and dealing drugs. When he got executed, she didn't even regret or miss him. She was just relieved. Of course, she would have preferred her son not to be involve, to still be alive. But it soon disappeared, for this day she finally started living, for real. _I love it_.

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AN: So, what did you think? Tell me, so I know if I can make others like that or not. Next one sometimes soon, I don't know exactly when.


	9. The Sister

AN: So sorry for the time it took, I had some busy days and this one didn't come as easily as the previous ones... I have to admit I am not yet satisfied, but I can't put my finger on what's exactly wrong, so I'm posting it anyway, waiting for your reviews filled with your impressions and advice. ;)

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**The Sister**

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So annoying… Sometimes he could swear he was going to kill her. Metaphorically, of course… But still. The drinking problem had been a blow, but he thought that her coming out would help her, that Clara could make her better. But that was a dream. Not six months after getting married, Clara had found Harry drunk on the bedroom floor, unconscious. She had tried to help afterwards, but his sister had decided against the better judgement and walked out, saying this marriage had been a mistake she wasn't willing to make anymore. That was an earthquake in both families and friends, everybody trying to fight that decision and bring her back to marriage and rehab. But nothing had worked. The divorce was signed, Harry rented a flat with a fellow drinker, and John kept worrying. Because that seemed to be the only feeling he was capable of towards his sister after all those years. And he didn't even care anymore. All he wanted was for her to stop drinking. After maybe he could think about something else when she was mentioned, but not for now.

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"A hundred and sixty two." Came a proud voice behind the counter. The little group turned towards a brightly and lightly dressed waitress. She was smiling broadly at John, who was tensed.

"I am 162 days sober not counting rehab, and I am doing perfectly ok being surrounded by alcohol."

John smiled and went to hug his sister. Letting a tear fall down his cheeks, he relished in feeling all the relief and love for his sister he had kept at bay for so long wash over him. He was proud and happy. "To my little sister!" He winked.

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AN: So? Did you enjoy it? Did you think something was amiss? Tell me, I'm ready for any kind of CONSTRUCTIVE criticism. And I really don't know when I'll post the next chapter, it's not written yet. I wish you all a fortunate reading and/or a prolific time writing. See you soon.


	10. The Drinks

**The Drinks**

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Gregory Lestrade: "Friendship".

_1 Shot_

John Watson: "Ambiguous. Dual. Good time, fun. Worrying."

_2 Shots_

"_Harry! Oh my god, John, what should I do? Harry! Help! Please, help!"_

"I like drinks, when they are away from my sister."

_3 Shots_

"_Oh, come on! Just one! To cheers! You don't even need to drink it if you don't want to, just take it in your hand and say cheers. Ok?"_

_Defeat. Good defeat, though._

_Letting his friends win because he wanted to have a good time._

Sherlock Holmes: "Not on a case."

Until John challenged him.

"So, should I understand that the _Great Sherlock Holmes_ can't solve a case with a few micrograms of alcohol in his blood? Or maybe it's the fact that it'll make you _sleep_, or deprive you from your beloved boredom?"

_4 Shots_

Molly Hooper: "Evacuating Sherlock Holmes' environment stress."

_5 Shots_

Harry Watson: "Breaking contact with my beloved brother who really doesn't deserve such a git as a sister."

"Harry! That's not true! You're an amazing sister when you're sober."

_6 Shots_

Batman: "A night with Catwoman. Oh, no, wait... that's my wish…"

…

…

_7 Shots_

Anderson: "Flirting. Winning flirting."

…_8 Shots…_

Janine: "Getting to see Sherlock's tender side. When he thinks I'm too far gone and takes care of me."

_9 Shots, 1 Blush, 1 Wink and 1 Kiss._

Mary Morstan: "Fantastic sleepless night."

John Watson: "Definitely."

_10 Shots, 2 Blush, 1 Wink and 2 Kisses._

Sherlock Holmes: "Fumbling."

_11 Shots, 2 Blush, 2 Winks, 2 Kisses and 1 General Laugh._

_And an awesome night._


	11. The Past

AN :_ *sheepish look*_: Hello! I am not dead, and I'm still part of this world! I'm so sorry for all the time that's passed since the last update... If it can be any consolation to you, this one is a tad longer (not much though) and I think deeper than the others. I sincerely don't know when the next chapter will be up, but I'll try to post it before Tuesday. No promise though. All that said, I'm letting you enjoy (I hope) this very special piece.

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**The Past**

The past. What a vague notion. It means so many things.

For John, it's hours of sitting down on a chair and listening to teachers rambling, just to say that everything changes and everything repeats itself.

For Lestrade, it's before he met the Holmes Brothers, before Sherlock jumped, before the goldfish crackers, before Jenny, before.

For Sherlock, it's everything before John came around, and hopefully not before he married Mary.

For Mary, it's papers, lots of papers, learnt by heart but with no heart.

But it's also before she got away, before she left, before she changed everything, when she was…someone else, before she met John, and Sherlock and all the others. It's before John learned, before he forgave her.

But most of all, it's before she didn't even have time to count to five between two contractions. Before Jenny, her new and only present free of everything that happened _before_.

Because that's what the past is. Something you need to be free of, good or bad, happy or sad. But free doesn't mean forgetting. Free means knowing what happened, being conscious, but instead of keeping it a weight, making it a lift, to live a better life.

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Jenny, this little baby, seemed to relax everyone she met. And maybe this is because every time her eyes bore into yours, she made you here a little whisper: "_Be free from your past._"

_Be free from your past Mummy, I don't need anyone else but who you are now._

_Be free from your past Daddy, you have everything you need._

_Be free from your past Sherlock, there are people loving you and caring for you. More than you think._

_Be free from your past Mrs Hudson, your husband is not coming back, it's over._

_Be free from your past Greg, he's waiting for you, to start something new over what remains._

_Be free from your past Mycroft, people like you better that way. Particularly Greg, I think. And he is ready to help you get when thing you certainly never had and that all money and power on this Earth can't buy: a family of your own, an assembly of people who consider you like a husband, a father, a brother-in-law, a model._

_Be free from your past Donovan, he's forgotten. He can't hold a grudge against anyone anyway. Oh, and she has too. Anderson's wife. She believes you've helped her see what kind of man he is._

_Be free from your past General, one day they will see the light, and who you truly are._

_Be free from your past Molly, you deserve better than what happened to you. And you will find it, one day. Sooner than you think._

_Be free from your past Tom, you've found a mentor, and a family._

_Be free from your past Mr and Mrs Holmes, your boys are finally fine and happy._

The first she said, before "mummy" or even "daddy" or anything else ordinary, was "_Bee f'ee!_", which had an incredible healing power.

So everybody:

_Be free from your past._


	12. The Farewell

**Farewell**

It's just another word for goodbye. More formal and solemn, a bit ancient depending on the context. Not a lot of people use it daily nowadays. It is almost reserved for high importance happenings and 'winks'.

For Jenny Watson, it's intimately linked to death, funerals and roses. Because the only times she ever said that word, she was sure, was at the numeral funerals she had to assist in the last few years.

The first one to go was Mrs Hudson, dear Mrs Hudson. It was the only one to leave peacefully of old age.

Then Greg was shot in line of duty. It was such a blow to his poor husband. Mere few months later, he died of a simple disease left untreated because no one could access his room before it was too late.

That raised a lot of political uproar, sending Mr and Mrs Holmes to their deaths when a mad psychopath decided they were spying on him on his ghost's behalf.

Sherlock and Janine died together with her parents in the explosion of a building they were investigating with DI Donovan.

Billy, having lost his mentor, jumped off St Bart's rooftop, as the detective had decades ago.

Moriarty definitively died few months ago when his business crumbled and he had no arch enemy anymore.

Finally, surrounding by all these death and being the last one in the run, Lena started depressing and was no more than the shadow of a ghost. She was buried a few years a car accident.

Each time it was the same. A short ceremony of remembering the qualities and good anecdotes. The coffin put down. The throwing of roses. The tears, the anger, the moving on. And on and on again. So much repetitive that now all that had become automatic, except maybe for the roses and crying parts, that remained deeply painful and hard.

"Mummyyyy. Who are we saying goodbye to?"

"We're saying goodbye to…"

_Your Grandpa Greg, daddy's dad_

_And his husband, Grandpa Mycroft_

_And his parents, Mummy Holmes and Mr_

_And my parents, John and Mary, and their best friends Sherlock and Janine, who are also my godparents_

_And cousin Billy, although he was not really my cousin_

_And to Jim and Lena._

_You remember Lena? She was Grandpa Greg's sister, your dad's aunty._

_And Jim was her husband._

_And let's not forget Mrs Hudson, John and Sherlock's landlady for life. She was an amazing woman._

_In fact, they were all amazing. Brave, bright, funny, and a lot of other things._

_What about we pray for them and give them some roses?_


	13. The 'Ting'

**The « Ting »**

_Ting ! Ting !_

John _jumped_ out of bed, steady on his feet in a fighting position.

"DON'T MOVE! EVERYBODY! HANDS UP!"

Mary _fell_ out of bed, looking at him agape through the tangled sheets.

John looked at her half sheepishly and half vexed, realising he had made a fuss over nothing.

"Hum…Sorry…" He mumbled. "I don't know what it was, there was a noise, probably my dreams though, and…"

Mary was laughing out loud. He tensed and stood his chest out in an attempt at keeping some pride.

"John, it was just the bell."


	14. 14: The Boredom

AN: I´m so sorry for not updating in so long! :O I was experiencing a writer block...

Chapter 14: The Boredom

"WHAT THE HELL, MARY!"

"Well…" She started sheepishly. "I may have… It's a case of _be careful what you wish for, cause you may get it_."

They all frowned.

"You were all bored! It was pathetic!" She argued.

John's face fell.

"Oh God, what did you do, Mary?"

She looked at him reassuringly.

"_I_ didn't do anything. I just wished for something to happen, so that you stop being bored."

"Well, next time - because these two will be bored again, no need to be a genius to know that - please refrain. Or bring them to the countryside before." DI Lestrade groaned. "Because I don't want to have to deal with such a large scale fire _again_!"

Just as he finished, Mycroft Holmes, impeccably dressed, appeared beside them.

"Is my brother causing you trouble again, DI Lestrade?" He inquired almost snobbishly.

"YES! HE'S STARTED ONE HELL OF A FIRE ALL THROUGH LONDON! JUST BECAUSE HE NEEDED TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED WHEN YOU BRING A MATCH NEAR A FORMER GAS OUTPUT!"

"Gregory! Calm down!" Mycroft hissed lowly. He then turned towards Sherlock and the Watsons, his manufacture fake grin on.

"So, what took you this time?"

"Oh, nothing of importance. Just a case." The detective waved it off.

"Sherlock! You nearly blew off half of London!" Lestrade scolded. Mycroft took the DI away from the group to try and calm him down, so he stopped shouting in the middle of the street.

* * *

><p>After several hours and the combined help of the fire-trucks and helicopters, the police and the local population, the fire was put out.<p>

Detective Inspector Lestrade, however, was not done for the night. Once the secured area was opened again, a thick crowd of journalists, interviewers and cameras ambushed him to get the details of what had happened. Which could have been a very easy task, in some other circumstances. But right now, he couldn´t tell them the truth. Not even a half-truth or a vague truth. Because everybody would know it was Sherlock, and Mycroft had made it clear that could be _disastrous_ for the detective, his blogger and his wife, himself and the whole of Scotland Yards.

So he was desperately trying to find something that could pass off a plausible. Meanwhile, he was rambling – with the help of Donovan, who was shooting him daggers for being dragged into this – about the technicalities of the fire. He took each and every question that allowed him to stir the public´s attention away from the real question. Just when he thought he was handling it well, Sherlock came towards them.

Everyone turned to him, hoping for a scoop. Lestrade and Donovan were surprised, because they hadn´t been told about an intervention from the detective.

"Everyone, lady, gentlemen, k-" He coughed and started again. "I wanted to present my sincerest apologies for what happened tonight. It was a singular and unexpected technical failure, and it will not happen again."

The two police officers shared an impressed look at Sherlock´s professionalism, almost clapping. Their good mood didn´t last long.

"On a brighter note, this accident has allowed me and my assistant to make a leap forward in solving a historical mystery…"

Lestrade stopped listening at that point, too shocked. He was completely abashed at how quickly, superbly and wholly the detective had just ruined his half-an-hour-worth of hard-work. Upon seeing the audience´s confused expressions, he concluded that maybe, just maybe, it wasn´t too late to avoid a disaster. He poked the youngest Holmes´ brother´s arm several times and started stirring him away from the crowd, hoping no one would ask the fatal question. In retrospect, he had to admit it _was_ a foolish hope. Indeed, he´d barely lead the detective a few feet away when a woman – probably a journalist – asked loudly:

"Mister Holmes! Do you mean to say you were the one to start the fire?"

_Don´t turn around, don´t answer. DON´T do anything stupid! _Lestrade wished. His prayer wasn´t answered, and a second later Sherlock turned back, frowning.

"You´re missing the whole point! The important thing here is that thanks to our little experiment on that former gas pipe, we´ve established a diagnosis in the safest possible!"

At that moment, Lestrade decided that he was done with trying to help the Great Detective out in social situations. Mycroft would be upset, for sure, but what could he do? The only answer he could come to was _nothing_. Only John could do something, if anything could be done. He sighed deeply, the night had suddenly grown longer for him, he was now sure he would not sleep or get away from the case for the next forty-eight hours. _Damn Sherlock Holmes!_

All that from a moment of boredom… The guy _really_ was a psychopath. He wandered briefly if he one day he´d get his head around it, before being called elsewhere to solve the mess.

AN: I hope you liked this long-awaited chapter! To kick-start this story again, I´m calling out to you for prompts, ideas, whatever you got!


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